


Raining Rain and Stupid Men

by jaxonkreide



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: (Not actually; but I've been told it could be read as thus), Aggression, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Denial of Feelings, Emotional Outbursts, Feels, Happy Ending, Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, Loki (Marvel) Does What He Wants, M/M, Making Up, Panic Attacks, Rain, Soft Loki (Marvel), Soulmates, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Gets a Hug, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, look there's just a lot of emotions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:22:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24520771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaxonkreide/pseuds/jaxonkreide
Summary: They were under a bridge, safe from the rain for now, but the air was damp and cold and wet, Stark would freeze to death at this rate. Loki refrained from pointing it out.“Do you like the rain?” Loki finally inquired.
Relationships: Loki/Tony Stark
Comments: 1
Kudos: 68





	Raining Rain and Stupid Men

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this whole thing, _a few_ nights ago (I kept not posting because I got distracted a bunch XD), in around a time span of 3 hours, honestly, I wasn't so much writing it as much as being a vessel for this to be written down XD
> 
> So, at around midnight, I was looking at the [question page of Bill Wurtz's website](https://billwurtz.com/questions/questions.html) (can not recommend Bill Wurtz enough) when I saw this question, and the answer.
> 
> And I was struck with just an image, just the start of this fic, and I started writing with no more than vague ideas and as I wrote it evolved and evolved, and in the end, this it was.

“Hello, Stark.”

A sound of acknowledgment from the man sitting beneath him but nothing more.

Loki rolled his eyes and sat down against the wall beside the other man, not saying another word.

Stark sat, knees high, arms upon them, head low, pillowed by his arms.

Loki sat, relaxed, hands folded in his lap, looking over Stark towards the rain he had stepped out of only just a few moments ago.

The rain hadn’t stopped all day and Stark had been out for long, he was soaked.

They sat like that. For a while. The rain rained on, people moving quick to get back inside, umbrellas were drawn, like weapons to fight against the sky. The wind was gentle, allowing the umbrellas to unleash their full potential – a mediocre protection from the rain, your legs would be soaked, nonetheless.

Loki glanced down, Stark was moving slightly with each breath, a tremble running through his body, he was cold. But he moved no more, no less than that tremble just had been.

Looking back up, nothing had changed. They were under a bridge, safe from the rain for now, but the air was damp and cold and wet, Stark would freeze to death at this rate. Loki refrained from pointing it out.

There was some wonder, what was Stark’s plan? Freeze and die? He didn’t move to make true some other, secret plan.

It made no sense.

“Do you like the rain?” Loki finally uttered some more words.

Stark did not respond, but Loki saw him move, just slightly, there it was, the smallest shake of the head.

“You do not?”

There was no further movement, but Loki heard it, the slightest, the smallest, barely audible – to mortal ear’s – huff.

Yes, Stark was listening indeed.

“Do you like water?”

There was a slight twitch in one of Stark’s hands. Agitated just like that? Adorable.

“No, you do so cherish your scotch, do you not?”

A balled hand, a fist, a show of emotion, but only for a second, Stark relaxed once more, a great sigh heaved itself through his body and he turned, away from Loki, just the slightest bit.

“Stark, do you like being cold?”

He saw the shiver his question brought up in the man, in Stark, he was cold, cold and wet, never a good combination, never a healthy way to be for long periods of time, Loki did not feel inclined to help at this moment.

Later, perhaps, but Stark chose this, Stark did this.

Just like Stark, Loki turned from him, not too far, but both his shoulders were touching the wall again, he straightened his head, looking towards the front and leaned that back too, until it too, touched the wall.

Loki closed his eyes and listened. The rain – while it had been loud before, wild, a lot, soaking everything within a minute – now had softened and yet, the rain rained on. It would not stop, not in a while, Loki knew, despite Thor’s absence on this day, it would continue on as such was nature. And nature, it liked to listen – though it loved Thor’s whims the most.

Besides the rain, there was the lightest shattering, it would get louder, just a bit, before stopping, for just a bit, before starting again, a noise barely heard – to humans as least – a shattering, just the smallest bit, of cold, of teeth, a wet and cold Stark besides him.

He tried to hide, still, even now.

Ran away, is still running, ever further away, Loki felt himself growing tired of it, growing tired of the cold. Of this wall behind him, the ground below.

The sound of the rain, it comforted him, showed him, proved him, that something at least, would go his way, could be predicted by him.

Besides the rain and the shattering – growing from soft to louder and stopping again, faster now, just slightly, noticeably, – there was a hum. Loki knew it, the hum that always followed, never found rest, a hum that would worm itself into your mind, listen too long and it would disappear, but it was still there, it always is, Stark carried it, the hum. Even when Loki goes, leaves, has enough of this, he could still hear this hum, a curse, a phantom sound that had taken refuge in his ears, a ghostly wail, but never changing, always the same, a hum, a hum, a hummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm…

Loki snapped his eyes open.

Yes, a hum, so dangerous, so –

“Ah, what am I to pretend. You love the cold, love being cold, carry it around at any time, there in that heart of yours, it doesn’t even have to be metal for that, your flesh is fine, just as well. No, the cold you carry is no one else’s fault but your own. You – “

“FUCKING STOP IT ALREADY!”

Stark had called out, had stopped his silence, had given in. The corner of Loki’s lip lifted in a short twitch, a smirk, not quite there, but there all the same. The walls around Stark, the walls he had built around himself, they were lifting, rising, not slowly, but all at once, for Stark was above him, straddling his lap, gripping him at his green coat, the Midgardian variety, tailored just to fit him, tailored just to suit his whims.

Loki did not pay attention to the mad Stark he had upon himself, instead looking down, where Stark was sitting on his legs, how he held himself, drip, drop, drip, drop.

“I would like to inform you, Stark, that you are currently dripping all over my attire, could you, mayhaps, refrain from doing so?”

“FUCK YOU AND YOUR FUCKING COAT! LET IT BE RUINED, I’LL BUY YOU ANOTHER FUCKING ONE!”

The Stark in his lap screamed, unnecessarily, right into Loki’s face, who, as mentioned prior, was indeed not mortal and had better hearing than them, thus, Stark was indeed loud beyond comfort, especially after the prior quiet. Though Loki wouldn’t wish him any other way, no, let him scream, screaming and talking, they were not so much different, when it came to this mortal that is, Loki found, that especially when this mortal screamed, his true colors were shining the brightest, he’d be agitated, he’d let go of his inhibitions, he’d show himself and speak the truth.

“Ah, Stark, you will find that I am not deaf – that is to say yet – there is no reason to be loud with me and disturb the passerby’s above our heads.”

Loki still egged him on, but also reasoned. It was exhausting and weird, after all, to have this man scream, speak caps, something he would forever refuse to admit, but then still make jokes about. Loki wondered if someone had told the soldier, so confused by this time, despite Loki’s quick acclimation to the all the changes the Midgardians had made since his last visit, the soldier, he was stuck in his ways, so Loki wondered indeed, did he know by now what it meant to speak in caps?

In response to Loki though, Stark wasn’t all too happy, for he shook Loki, not that he could, would Loki not be allowing it, the mortal not strong enough to do anything but move his clothes, still, Loki let himself go, let the man shake and shake as Loki’s head hit the wall a multitude of times, as angry cries and curses came from Stark’s mouth, Loki sat, and looked at the man, calm, collected, while Stark broke down.

Loki saw it, the moment it cracked, the rage, the anger, the blind emotion that was surging through Stark, it was in his eyes, unfocused before, fixating onto an imperfection in Loki’s normally perfect hair, now tossed and turned from being shaken and flung. That is what broke Stark’s final wall and he stopped his assault, his hand loosened in Loki’s coat and then one reached up, tucked the hair strand which had fallen, fallen into Loki’s face, back to the place it belonged and Stark’s hand lingered. It lingered and the emotion, so potent just a moment before, it drained out of Stark’s face, behind, it left only one thing.

A pale mortal, cold, shivering, dripping onto Loki’s coat, holding Loki’s face with a wet hand, wet and cold and altogether unpleasant.

Still, despite it all, Loki leaned his head into that palm, just the tiniest bit, he sought it out, after all, he had come here, had caught Stark, yes, here he was and here was Stark. Stark was looking at him now, seeing him, biting his lip, drawing Loki’s attention, only to let it go, to give it a lick and to bite it again.

Stark’s face came closer, ever closer, while Loki did not move. They were close, close indeed, just a hair’s breadth between, Loki’s lips just a bit further, Stark would only need to lean, just the slightest bit, just a bit more, seal the deal, make it real.

But he did not, not yet, still hesitating, still running, but not far, still here, instead of a full out run, his head sunk down, towards Loki’s chest and Stark’s whole body moved, until he was against Loki through and through, soaking Loki second hand, the rain still doing it’s business just a few feet away, laughing quietly, in its soft pitter-patter, that Loki too, now was wet.

Indeed, he was wet, but there was also a body pressed to him, closely, seeking warmth and comfort of some kind, Stark’s ear, pressed close to Loki’s heart, listening to its beat, another sound which became louder and more visible with this change of position, but Stark’s heart too, it was beating just as loud. Though Loki could not say for sure, if it was the cold and Stark’s heart just tried to keep warm, an impossible battle, but something that Loki could resolve.

Thus, he lifted his arm, one of the two, and rested it upon Stark’s back, where it glowed, a beautiful green, and heated, heated further and further, causing the wetness to evaporate. Stark had earned this now, this warmth that would burn the water, and burn the cold, he had earned it, but deserved it, he always had. Loki was not above admitting that he had been quite mean, quite rude, to refuse this comfort to someone like Stark, but it wouldn’t have helped, had Loki reached out first, dried Stark and warmed him up, the man would have just sprung away, back into the rain, to repeat the cycle again, it had to break, Stark had to break, the walls he built, the walls he hid behind, the walls he tried to ignore, pretend to never exist, all those things in one second, in every second, at all times.

Stark shivered against him, this time not in cold, not in despair, but in warmth, in pleasure, for Loki knew, at this moment, it felt as if one had been dressed in a freshly heated blanket, smelling of mother’s care and love, though it was not his mother that made Stark feel that way, but Loki instead, he wondered what Stark smelled, if he did at all, maybe he just relished the warmth, relished it, and burrowing closer, ever closer to Loki, even though in the end, there was just one thing that it was. In vain. For Stark, he was already as close as he could get, but Loki, he relished it too, this feeling of being close, a feeling he had missed for far too long, a feeling beautiful in its simplicity, a feeling which never failed to make him feel like he could belong, even though he never truly did, never before, he did not know of the future’s plans for him despite all the clever plans of his turning out exactly the way he expected. No, it had always been his mother, who had been able to make him pretend and who knew, that it was not true, saw it not to be true in the future, still pretending, and never telling a word. He did not wish this to Stark, or anyone, besides, he thought, maybe Thor, for the sake of being petty.

Once again, a moment of silence came upon the two, but unlike at the prior moment, this time, the low shattering had stopped, replaced by two beats, both fast, running a marathon and yet not, both trying to outrun the other, slowing, pacing, calming, they still fought, even as they walked, two heartbeats, so different and yet, they were the same, they were beating, breathing, living.

Besides those, there was the rain, pit, pat, pit, pat, was it clearing up? Maybe it was listening again, for as if on cue, a soft warmer breeze met Loki’s hand, still against Stark’s back, holding him close, the rain was greeting the warmth, wanted it to come back elsewhere too, to dry with the sun’s help, the streets it had flooded until only just not. Pit, pat, and the rain rained no more, pit, pat, and it stopped.

Silence if it were not for those beating hearts, beating hearts, and. Wasn’t there one more thing?

Yes, indeed there was. And it never left, it was still there, hiding, making camp just inside your ear, darting away each time you attempted to swat at it, to chase it away, a much persistent sound. For it was the hum, the hum which sounded all the louder now with Stark so close. The hum, which even with the return of warmth, still radiated cold, a poison, to more than just the ears, but to the mind and heart as well. A poison which never left, never too far, never too near, but always there, siphoning from you, taking your strength, a poison, no less lethal than any other of its kind.

It hummed and hummed and hummed, but before Loki became lost, once more, in this simple sound, Stark against him moved and grabbed Loki’s other hand – the which had not found use on Stark’s back, still dispersing the warmth of a fresh blanket – he grabbed Loki’s hand and drew it between his own, he did this and moved it, Loki’s hand, to be just above his chest, to feel the hum, stronger than ever before, before removing it again, but keeping it within his own.

“Why do you always describe it that way?” Stark inquired from him, “I can’t see how it’s a hum to you.”

“It is, a hum most unpleasant, as quiet as it might be, it is still a scream, loud, and for me to hear.”

“And you want it gone.”

“That I do, both that and much more as you surely remember.”

“I do.”

“Do what, Stark?”

“I do remember, but I am also agreeing, if you really think it should go, if you really think it safe.”

“I do.”

They relapsed into silence once more. While before, a smirk has tugged at Loki’s lips, this time when the tug was there, it was not the smirk, wanting to be back, but a smile, soft, something, unlike anything he did in a long while, for he felt something in his very own heart which might be described by a notion such as happiness, something which did not like Loki, hiding, running, always away from him, but here it was, here in the now.

“What about my other demands then?”

Loki thought it was a safe question, but he felt it before he heard it, Stark stiffened his back, just the slightest bit. Loki heard the noise building in Stark’s throat before it had the chance to leave his lungs as he sputtered for words, finally, ultimately being able to settle on some.

“We don’t know each other!”

Loki closed his eyes with an amused huff at that, it had always been said that Stark was a man of many words, he could dance around you with just them, leave you behind far and away, and yet, now, it is those very same things that fail him, for he could not be further from the truth.

“We don’t?”

Stark sighed, resigned to his defeat by his very own hands.

“We do.”

Loki smiled, he feared that it would become a habit, around this man if things would continue like this, and that, well, it would be most unfortunate indeed, but Loki didn’t feel it within himself to bridle the smug satisfaction that his very heart radiated, yes, a game well won was a good one indeed.

“Might I suspect that you do agree to all my inquiries then?” Loki asked Stark once more, and he saw him fumbling for an answer, to say something, anything.

“How could I ever, you absolute pain in the ass, if you never even call me by my name? I am more than just a Stark, you know? Or don’t you? I won’t accept anything further from you if you won’t address me with my actual name.” Stark was passionate, and he did have a point, Loki pondered, as he moved his hand, up and down, slowly over Stark’s back, easing the slightest bit of tension out of him.

“You make a valid point, Anthony. You ask to be called by your ‘actual name’, and if it’s that what you want, I shall be happy to oblige.”

Anthony groaned, loudly, exasperated, as he realized his own mistake, and Loki smiled. Yes, Anthony was indeed a good name, so much better than Stark, it rolled over his tongue as easily as the silver he usually spun, easier, even, with time, he guessed. With time, he’d taste that name more and more, and yes, he could see himself clearly, cherishing the name and always keeping it close to himself.

But Anthony wasn’t done yet, Loki could feel. He hesitated just a bit more, not a lot, there was just a final push keeping him from saying yes, to all that Loki had desired when he had sought out the man, just earlier today. Sought him out, after long years of longing, of waiting, of getting to know one another, in the not very much traditional way, but still knowing. Knowing and understanding, forgiving, and growing closer. Closer and closer, until finally, Loki took that final step and came, came and asked for what he wanted, asked and got a chase instead, a chase and cold and warmth and happiness, all together, just in one single day, a matter most fast, as was Midgardian standard.

Anthony moved then, once more, shifting in Loki’s lap, until they once again were face to face, but unlike prior, their faces were neither blank or angry, both they smiled, both they looking at each other with warmth, a warmth that did not need to come from Loki’s hand, a warmth, a fondness, a happiness within, just as the rain had stopped and the sun once more broke through the clouds that had covered the sky.

Anthony’s gaze flicked down, to Loki’s lips, and he felt his own eyes be drawn down, to that inviting smile, that quite beautiful beard, shaped with the highest care, only further making that smile more beautiful, that smile which quirked up just that small impossible bit further when the person behind that smile caught on to where Loki’s eyes had landed as well.

“How am I to accept,” Anthony then said, Loki’s eyes, never leaving those lips, watching them move, catching sight of the teeth behind, shining white, a perfect picture. “How am I to accept, the proposal of a man who I have never even kissed?”

Anthony’s words were a sweet whisper, and by the end of it, Loki’s eyes were indeed drawn up once more, and he stared, at Anthony, at his beautiful smile and his beautiful eyes, at his beard, his lashes, and his hair, alighted from that heart which he could still hear beating from within, a faster pace once more, his cheeks, just the slightest change of hue.

And Loki, at that very moment, could do nothing more, than lean forward, that one bit that Anthony had hesitated before and sealed their lips together, finally, after so long, completing a bond that had been dormant, had been quieted, had been distrusted, but now, with a touch of lips, with warmth and happiness and love, it grew strong once more, it grew as warm and happy and as loving as both of them felt at that moment and so much more.

No, their path had not been calm and easy in the end, but it had been chaotic, they had lost their way, trampled over other’s fields, through woods and desert, but also the sea, the water, and the infinite space within.

It had been chaotic, just as they were, down to their heart, but in the end, it led to a goal, chosen by them both, just as much as any other path would have done. But no, who would Loki and Anthony be if they ever chose the easy way?

They were together, now, and warm and happy and in love, and they had all the time they wanted still awaiting, so much more chaos to brave, so much more chaos to create, so much more love to uncover and both of them?

They wouldn’t have it any other way, never before and never in the future.

**Author's Note:**

> So, hi! I hope you enjoyed reading this as it's kind of a convoluted ride but I still _dearly_ love this. This is the kind of thing I _wish_ I could write while not being tired at. It's confusing, it's emotional and I _love_ writing like this. But it also leads to problems.
> 
> As stated in the tags, Tony's behavior in this fic can be read like he has a panic attack. I didn't realize it since Tony doesn't have a panic attack here, but as a precaution, I still added the tag, because even if it's nothing, Sesil (who is incredibly wonderful and thank you so much for helping with those tags 💕) thought that it sounded like a panic attack and told me so.
> 
> The behavior in question is Tony shaking, not answering Loki, and afterward his violent outburst. (Gonna be brief because I rewrote these end notes 4 times already due to length.) 
> 
> First, Tony shaking: It's rainy, it's cold, Tony is wet and cold, hence he's shaking.
> 
> Secondly, he's not answering Loki, this is for story reasons a reader could only retroactively know (important is here that Loki does know) but Tony is ignoring Loki because he's in denial of his own feelings, in denial of this situation, in denial that he likes Loki.
> 
> Finally, the third point, Tony's violent outburst. He's _both_ in denial as well as angry at himself. Deep down he knows how he feels, but he's hidden that behind "all these walls". He's angry at himself for being "weak"(his feelings about the reactor, about Loki) but he's just as angry at himself for hiding away like this and ignoring Loki. And when Loki provokes him further on top of that it just builds up until he projects this anger he feels outwards onto the first thing he gets his hands on - Loki. 
> 
> Tony is in a highly emotional situation but it's not a panic attack. I sincerely hope I could reassure some people with this, I did not mean for this to be read like this and possibly cause distress in people and that's why it's tagged despite not actually happening in this fic.
> 
> I want to end this by saying, if Tony had had a panic attack, it would have been a wildly different story, Loki wouldn't have acted the way he did. He did it because he had all the information of what happened before (the reader is missing it!), he might not be able to know what Tony is thinking exactly, but there is a lot here that hasn't been said, that stays between the two of them. 
> 
> Thanks again to Sesil, without you, I wouldn't have noticed this different reading of what I wrote 💕  
> If there are any more questions, please, do ask away!


End file.
